


La Bête Belle

by swallowthewhale



Series: Killervibe Week [21]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fairytale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Killervibe Week, Killervibe Week 2019, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-23 22:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20347504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowthewhale/pseuds/swallowthewhale
Summary: A young man is selected to keep a fearful beast company, living in a castle far out in the woods, in the hopes of breaking the curse that has plagued his town for many years. Yet when he arrives, he finds not a beast, but a beautiful woman…Killervibe Week 2019: Fairytale





	La Bête Belle

_Il était une fois…_

Cisco waits in the center of town with the rest of the eligible young men of the village. Those between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six gather once every five years on the eve of the winter solstice to select a new young hero to send to the castle.

Not that the term winter has much meaning anymore, Cisco muses. The village and all the land surrounding the castle has been locked in an eternal chill for Cisco’s entire life, and the life of even the oldest woman in the town. He’s heard rumors of the beast in the castle, ranging in absurdity from a lonely woman curst to live as a beast to a ferocious monster who kills and eats all who enter her domain. Cisco’s not entirely sure what to believe.

Cisco’s brother, Dante, elbows him in the ribs. “Ready for an adventure, little brother?” He teases.

Cisco scowls and rubs his side. “They’re not going to pick me.”

Dante smirks. “Of course they’re not, mijo. They’re going to choose me.”

Cisco stares blankly at his brother. Of all the idiotic things Dante has done, this has got to beat them all. “You want to go?”

“I want to break the spell,” Dante retorts. “Think of the riches and honor it would bring our family if I could break it.”

Cisco resist the urge to smack Dante. “No one’s ever come back, Dante. You really think you’ll be the first?”

Dante shrugs and turns to the well, where the council is standing. The spokeswoman, a tiny but commanding woman who runs the town bakery, steps up onto the ledge of the well so that the crowd can see her.

“Welcome,” she says, and the crowd quiets. “To the eve of the winter solstice, where one of our brave young men will again venture forth to tame the beast and break the spell that has trapped us for so long.”

Cisco glances around. Although the spokeswoman’s words glorify the task, the faces of the villagers all share expressions of grim apprehension. No one enjoys losing their child to the futile task of breaking the curse.

“The council has made their decision,” she continues. “The young man who will enter the castle this year is… Monsieur Francisco Ramon.”

There are sighs of relief from a few of the boys around Cisco, but his own breath is caught in his throat. Him? _Him? _They must have made a mistake. Cisco isn’t brave or strong or adept with a sword. He’s not even talented with music like Dante. Cisco likes _books_, and machines, and learning. He doesn’t even want to stay in this town. He’d wanted to get out, and go to Paris, or Barcelona, or Florence and become an inventor. He feels a little nauseous. All his dreams, gone. He’s being sent to an eternity trapped in a castle with a beast, at best. At worst, an early death.

Dante is talking to him. “… you need to go up there, Cisco.”

Cisco can’t even remember the last time Dante called him by his name.

“Cisco, go.” Dante doesn’t sound excited anymore. He’s serious, and even angry. Maybe angry that Cisco gets to go and he doesn’t, maybe angry that his little brother’s future is being cut short. Cisco can’t tell.

His legs move him forward of their own accord and the crowd parts silently in front of him. When he gets to the spokeswoman, she grips his forearm in a warrior’s handshake and then leads him away into the town hall. It’s empty, but the council files in behind them, the door shutting heavily as the last enters.

“Francisco,” the spokeswoman says, gesturing to a chair.

He sits heavily, as the rest of the council takes their own seats.

“I’m very sorry,” M. Durand, the bookseller, says quietly.

Cisco bows his head. M. Durand is the reason Cisco loved books and learning. He’s Cisco’s greatest friend in the town.

“Do you know what you must do?” M. Lefévre, the blacksmith, asks gruffly.

Mme. Séverin, the schoolteacher, shushes him. “He’s just a boy,” she says. “Don’t frighten him.”

“Maybe he should be frightened,” M. Lefévre mutters. “God knows what’s in that castle.”

The spokeswoman glares at them both. “You’ve heard tales of the curse, M. Ramon,” she says. “Many years ago, before even the eldest among us was born, a curse was placed upon the lady of the castle and the lands surrounding it. The curse says that until the lady can learn to love and be loved, the earth will be as cold as her heart. We’ve suffered for generations from a winter that never ends. In the hopes of breaking the curse, a young man is sent to the castle to serve as a companion to the beast. No one has yet returned, and yet the curse remains, so we continue to send our young men.”

Cisco frowns. “Why did you choose me? I’ve no strength or great talents.”

“On the contrary,” the spokeswoman says, with amusement, “You have a great talent.” She gestures to M. Durand, who leans forward eagerly.

“You have knowledge, and intelligence, and most importantly, compassion,” M. Durand says. “We have sent many young men who are extraordinary fighters and talented artists. But you have the capability to understand and help even the lowliest beggar. You are the one, Cisco.”

Cisco tries not to squirm in his seat, his ears hot with embarrassment. Mme. Séverin rests her hand gently over his. “You need not fear,” she says. “Everything you require to succeed is within you.”

“Do you accept?” The spokeswoman asks.

Cisco doesn’t know if he even has a choice, but there’s an odd feeling in his chest, telling him to go. He’s never felt like that before, not even when he talked to M. Durand about traveling to Paris, like this is his destiny. “I accept,” he says.

Cisco packs his bags and says goodbye to his parents, who even in their fear seem relieved that Dante wasn’t chosen. The spokeswoman hands him the reins to a steady mare at the edges of town early in the morning of the winter solstice and leaves him with a parting handshake.

They trudge along the path through the forest. Cisco names his black mare Luna for the circle of white on her forehead and talks to her for hours as they travel. The temperature drops and drops as the canopy closes overhead and the snow drifts loom taller. Cisco huddles into his cloak, glad he had worn extra layers, but still freezing. He’s dozing off when Luna comes to a sudden halt in front of tall wrought iron gates, and Cisco gapes at the beautiful, marble castle beyond. He dismounts to push the gates open, and leads Luna through, taking care to latch the gate behind them. Despite the eerie silence, the path is clear up to the doors, and light flickers in the windows of the castle in the approaching dusk. Cisco steels himself, Luna’s reins gripped tightly in one hand and the other on the door knock.

“Here goes,” he tells Luna, who butts his arm with her nose.

He kocks.

The door swings open without a sound to reveal a small stout man with a handlebar moustache and a scowl. “What joy,” he drawls. “Yet another.” He coughs loudly and a little boy scampers up. “Chip will take your horse,” he says. “Follow me.”

Cisco hands off the reins to the boy, who grins up at him toothily before trotting off with Luna. The little man shuts the door behind them and Cisco can’t help but sigh with relief at the warmth.

“Hmph,” the man says, looking Cisco up and down. “I’ll show you to your room. You have one hour before you’re to join the mistress for supper.”

The man leads Cisco through a winding maze of candle-lit halls and stairways, the walls covered with paintings of imposing figures and black cloth-covered mirrors, until he finally opens a door into a warm bedroom.

“I’ll return in one hour,” he reminds Cisco sternly, then disappears down the hall.

Cisco shuts the door and examines the room as he strips off his coats, hanging them on the coat rack near the door. A large bed with heavy quilts sits opposite a lit fireplace and cushioned chair. A desk is positioned near the window, where Cisco can just make out the pale remains of the winter sunset. A wardrobe with some clothing hanging inside stands in the corner next to a washbasin and towel.

A knock on the door startles Cisco out of his musings and he opens it to find the stableboy, Chip holding his bags.

“Thank you,” Cisco says, reaching out to take the bags.

Chip slips by him instead and lays the bags by the wardrobe. “Shall I unpack for you monsieur?”

“No, thank you,” Cisco says hastily. There are quite a few items in his bags that young hands shouldn’t be handling.

“Very well,” Chip says cheerfully. “Them’s clothes in the wardrobe are for you, monsieur. Supper’s a fancy affair, monsieur, if you didn’t pack the right clothes.”

“Thank you,” Cisco says again, starting to feel repetitive and hoping Chip will take it upon himself to leave.

Chip backs up to the door. “You’ll like the mistress, monsieur. She’s - well, she’s-”

“Chip!” A voice scolds from the door. “You’re supposed to deliver the master’s bags and return to the kitchen to help with supper!”

Chip jumps like his feet have been set to coals and scurries out of the room. “Sorry, mama!”

A plump woman stands in the doorway with a jug in her hands. Her greying hair is pulled up into a bun and she wears an apron over her simple dress.

Cisco’s heart twists. She reminds him of _his_ mama.

“I’m sorry, monsieur. I hope my boy wasn’t bothering you.” She bustles in to pour steaming water into his washbasin. 

“Not at all,” Cisco fibs.

“Very well,” she says smiling. “Is there anything you require before dinner?”

Cisco hesitates. What would she say if he asked about her mistress. He decides against it. Better to form his own opinion when he meets her. “No, thank you.”

“Very well,” she says again, dipping a curtsey. “Ring the bell if you need anything and someone will be along.”

She closes the door behind her and Cisco draws the chair closer to the fire. There were more people here than he was expecting. He’d had an idea that it was just this beastly woman, all alone in an enormous castle, perhaps with the skeletons of all the men who had been sent along before him. It was a ridiculous worry, now that Cisco is here in this warm room. Even if the lady is a terror, at least the others in the house don’t seem too bad. Besides, Cisco is good at making friends.

By the time the butler returns, Cisco has washed his face and hands in the warm water, unpacked his bags, poured over every inch of the room, and changed into his best clothes and tied back his hair for dinner. The clothes in the wardrobe had fit so perfectly that Cisco had been unnerved and slid them back into place for the time being. The butler gives him a disapproving hmph, but doesn’t comment on Cisco’s clothing before leading him down to an elaborate dining room. A large table has two place settings at either end with a collection of candles arranged in the center. The table is comically large for just two people, but Cisco obediently sits at the end the butler guides him to.

The doors opposite Cisco open and he stands automatically only for his breath to be stolen by the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She’s tall and pale, with brown hair swept up into an elaborate bun, and her dress shimmers in the light. Cisco swallows harshly. This was not what he expected.

As she approaches, Cisco can better see the icy look in her hazel eyes and the firm press of her mouth as she frowns. Maybe, Cisco thinks, the beast is within. The lady curtseys slightly when she reaches her end of the table, and Cisco bows hastily. They both sit as platters of food are wheeled in from the kitchen doors. The lady remains silent while they are served and until the last of the servants return to the kitchen.

“So,” she says cooly. “You are the next.”

Cisco frowns but bows from his seat. “M. Francisco Ramon,” he introduces himself.

“Ramon,” she says without interest. “Spanish?”

“Yes, ma- my lady,” Cisco responds, stumbling over the proper form of address. Is she a mademoiselle or a madame? A lady or a beast?

She takes a dainty bite of her supper, seeming to see right through him. “Madame Snow,” she corrects.

“Madame Snow,” Cisco repeats softly. “English?”

“My father,” she replies stiffly and doesn’t say another word.

Cisco sighs and finishes his own meal. On the one hand, he had imagined far worse, but on the other, earning her trust will by no means be easy. Maybe she will just let him leave. He’ll have to find out what had happened to the others before him.

Cisco spends all of his time in his room for a week. He requests paper and charcoal from Mme. Pitts, the housekeeper, who happily provides it, and spends hours in the desk by the window sketching out designs and reading the books he had brought with him. Eventually he tires of being inside, and asks Chip to bring him to the stables to exercise Luna. Cisco rides around the perimeter of the castle yard, quietly describing to Luna the interior of the castle and the strange lady who lives there. They take every meal together in complete silence. Cisco can’t quite muster up the courage to ask her another question, and Mme. Snow does not show any interest in speaking with him. M. Leclair, the butler, does not seem to warm up to Cisco, but does show him to the library, a massive, two-story room with shelves upon shelves of books lining the walls.

Cisco sets up a corner of the library to his liking, with the comfiest chair pulled up to the fireplace and a little table with an oil lamp set next to the chair. He collects stacks of books on various subjects, from the history of the French Alps to studies of physical systems and mechanics. He’s careful to replace every book to where he found it and to bring his notes back to his room every evening.

It takes only a few more weeks of only seeing Mme. Snow at meals for Cisco to lose his fear and attempt conversation. He doesn’t ask any questions of her, just comments on the lovely bright day that afternoon, and Luna’s good health, and the intriguing new mathematical problem he discovered in a book that morning. Mme. Snow does not engage, but her gaze shifts from its usual spot on the wall over Cisco’s shoulder and to his face. He still can’t quite read her expression, but he deems it a success, and continues to make small talk at every meal until finally she interrupts him.

“What are you doing?” She demands, tone possibly not quite as haughty as she intended.

Cisco smiles into his soup. “Making conversation,” he replies congenially. “Isn’t that the purpose of a dinner companion?”

Mme. Snow very nearly gapes at him, but snaps her mouth shut to glare at him. “You are not here to be a dinner companion.”

“No,” Cisco admits. “I’m here to find out how to break the curse.”

Her eyes narrow. “The curse?”

“Yes,” Cisco says patiently. “The curse that has kept the land cold for generations, killing the crops and stalling trade? The curse that brings heavy snows even when it should be warm?”

“I know of the curse,” Mme. Snow snaps. “There’s no way to break it.”

Cisco shrugs. “I don’t believe that, but the truth is that our village knows little of the curse. Would you tell me about it?”

Mme. Snow, face pale with fury, sets down her napkin and stalks off without having finished her soup.

Cisco eats the rest of his meal alone, mulling over her reaction and considering what to talk about at supper that evening. He changes tactics, figuring that the owner of a castle with such a magnificent library must hold books dear, and asks Mme. Snow of her favorite in the collection.

She looks startled, but answers. “_Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus. _M. Durand brought it last year.”

“M. Durand,” Cisco asks, shocked. “The bookseller?”

Mme. Snow nods. “I buy new books from him every year to keep the library up to date,” she smiles ruefully, “even as time within these walls does not progress.”

That explains a few things, Cisco thinks. “Do you receive other things from the town? Provisions and such?”

She nods again. “M. Leclair leaves a list and payment at the gates every week, and someone from the town brings what we require.” She studies him for a moment. “If there is anything you might require from town, you may request it from M. Leclair,” she says. “I would like you to feel comfortable here.”

Cisco thanks her, baffled at the sudden kindness. “I do love books,” he admits. “M. Durand always gave me excellent recommendations.”

Mme. Snow smiles, the first genuine one Cisco thinks he’s seen. “I too love books,” she says softly. “Decades trapped in a castle leaves little to capture the imagination.”

Maybe, looking back, that was the moment when the lady opened up her heart to this man who could share her love of books and knowledge. Maybe it was in the weeks to come, when Cisco shared with her his favorite tomes on the physical world and explained his machines and Mme. Snow talked at length, perched on the edge of her chair in the library, about biological sciences and the endless intrigue of nature. Perhaps, however, it was the moment after Cisco accidentally knocked one of the black cloths off the mirror it was covering and Mme. Snow stood, staring shocked and aghast at her reflection in the mirror before fleeing.

Cisco gave chase, following her up a staircase he’d never ascended before, and into a dark room whose light came only from the large windows looking out over the courtyard. “Mme. Snow?”

A muffled sob is his only response.

He follows it around a large chaise to find Mme. Snow collapsed onto a sofa, head buried in her arms. “Mme. Snow, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Her head lifts to scowl at him. “Realize what?” She snarls.

“That you’re in mourning,” Cisco says gently, kneeling before her. “I didn’t mean to uncover the mirror. Who did you lose?”

She huffs, swiping angrily at the tears under her eyes. “I didn’t lose anyone.”

Cisco sits back on his heels, avoiding her eyes. “My brother died, when I was young. We fled Spain when I was six, and my brother, Armando, fell ill during the trip. Influenza. He was the eldest, and without him, Dante and I never got along. He was the peacemaker.” Cisco smiles crookedly. “I don’t even know where he’s buried.”

Mme. Snow’s fury is gone. She reaches out a tentative hand and places it over Cisco’s.

Cisco looks up, startled. They’d never touched before.

“I didn’t lose anyone,” she repeats, much calmer. “The mirrors are covered because I can’t stand to see myself like this.”

Cisco turns his own hand so they are palm to palm. “If I may ask, Mme. Snow, why?”

“Caitlin,” she corrects. “Please call me Caitlin.”

“Caitlin,” Cisco whispers.

She withdraws her hand and folds them in her lap. “I’m sure you’ve heard the tales of the beast that lurks within the walls of this castle.”

Cisco nods.

“I’m the beast.”

She smiles wryly at the disbelieving expression on Cisco’s face.

“I was cursed many years ago to take this form. It reviles me to look in the mirror and not see myself, but this form that men covet so. The man who cursed me was enraged when I refused to marry him, as he thought his offer of marriage was the best I could hope for due to my poor… appearance.”

“So he cursed you to be beautiful?” Cisco asks tentatively.

Caitlin inclines her head. “I am doomed to stay in this form until,” she looks away, “well until someone can learn to love me.”

Cisco hesitates, then asks, “What of all the men that have come before?”

“They’ve gone,” Caitlin replies. “They stayed for a while but eventually they all left.”

“Where did they go? No one has ever returned to the village.”

Caitlin gives him a tiny shrug. “I cannot say where they went after they left here. I have little connection to the world outside the gates.”

That’s not a very satisfying answer, but Cisco doesn’t push. Instead he stands and offers his hand to Caitlin to help her to her feet.

Caitlin starts to join Cisco on his daily rides around the garden on her own mount, a beautiful white stallion who she calls Gwenaël. They move their meals to a cozier table near the fireplace in the sitting room, and spend long evenings reading and debating all manner of topics from science to religion to fiction. Cisco walks Caitlin to her rooms every evening when the fires are banked and the candles burn down to their stubs in the library, though neither seem to notice the decreasing space between them nor the increasing looks of longing.

On a day late into the spring, although several inches of snow remain in the courtyard, Caitlin arrives late to the stables for their ride. Cisco waits, petting Luna and Gwenaël and feeding them sugar cubes from his pocket. Finally he hears the door close behind him, and turns to see Caitlin, dressed for their ride, but holding a paper in her hand.

“Cisco,” she says, and Cisco’s heart drops into his stomach, because she has always called him Francisco no matter how many times he asked her to use Cisco.

“What’s wrong?”

Caitlin offers him the paper wordlessly, and Cisco reads it frantically.

He reads it again twice more before looking back up. “You’ve read it?” He asks.

Caitlin nods. “Cisco,” she says again, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

Cisco paces the stable restlessly before coming to a halt before her. He gathers her hands into his. “Caitlin,” he begs. “I have to go home.”

Her face falls, but she nods. “You have always been free to leave.”

Cisco shakes his head, trying to meet her gaze. “I’ll return, I promise.”

Caitlin smiles unsteadily and steps backwards, hands slipping from his grip and wrapping around her stomach. “No one has ever returned before.”

“I’ll be the first,” Cisco says, swinging up into Luna’s saddle. “Caitlin, I swear.”

Caitlin doesn’t respond, just unlatches the large stable door to allow Luna to ride out. When Cisco glances over his shoulder, she’s still standing there, watching him leave.

Cisco rides Luna back to the village harder than he should. But the still cold spring air burns in his lungs and the panic is deep in his stomach. The snow continues to thin as he gets closer to town until it’s just a fine dusting. He makes it back before the sun sets to find a small gathering on the porch of his father’s house. He tosses Luna’s reins to M. Durand, who motions for them when Cisco dismounts, and rushes into the house.

Dante is laid in bed, thin and sweating, his hair plastered to his face. The room smells of the sickly and sweet scent of illness, the only thing Cisco remembers from Armando’s death. Cisco’s mother is sitting beside the bed, Dante’s hand pressed between hers, and Cisco’s father stands behind her with his hands on her shoulders. The doctor, M. Renaud, and Mme. Émile, the village midwife and healer, are on Dante’s other side, speaking quietly to each other. They all look up when Cisco bursts into the room, kneeling next to his mother.

“Mi hijo!” Cisco’s mother cries, kissing him on each cheek and hugging him tightly.

Cisco pushes her away gently. “What happened?”

“Consumption,” M. Renaud replies gravely. “We’ve done all we can, the illness must run its course.”

Cisco droops, wrapping his hands around his mother’s. Tuberculosis is deadly. If only Caitlin were here, she would know exactly the best treatment for it.

Mme. Émile watches over Dante while the family eats a simple supper with M. Renaud and M. Durand.

Cisco avoids all of his parents questions about the lady and the castle, asking instead about his father’s business and the news of the town. M. Durand manages to catch him alone late in the evening on the porch, where Cisco is looking at the stars.

“You’re the first to return,” M. Durand comments.

“Not the first to leave,” Cisco says. “All the men before me left.”

M. Durand frowns. “Where did they go?”

Cisco shrugs.

“Was she lying?”

“No,” Cisco says quietly. “She didn’t lie.”

M. Durand examines him for a moment. “You’re going back, aren’t you?”

Cisco nods. “My mother won’t be pleased.”

M. Durant pats his back. “But you will go back,” he says.

As Cisco expected, his mother protested when he announced in the morning that he would stay until Dante showed signs of improvement, then return to the castle. Cisco stayed firm, asking his father what he could do to help and set to work cleaning the stables, fixing the broken latch on the back fence, and fetching the eggs from the henhouse. At night, he sits with Dante, reading to him and telling him about Caitlin.

After a week, Dante’s fever breaks and the color begins to return to his face. Cisco packs his bags.

“Cisco, por favor,” his mother begs. “Dante needs you here.”

Cisco shakes his head. “I told you I would stay until Dante gets well.”

“Cisco,” his father says sternly. “You belong here, with your family.”

“You didn’t say that when I was chosen to leave,” Cisco says grimly, meeting his father’s stare head-on. “I promised I would go back. You don’t need me here. Dante will be well soon.”

“Cisco-” his father tries again.

“Papi,” Dante interrupts weakly. “Cisco needs to go.”

They all stare at Dante.

Dante reaches out for Cisco’s hand. “Go,” he says. “Tell her how you feel.”

“You heard?” Cisco whispers.

Dante squeezes Cisco’s hand. “Tell her.”

Cisco and Luna ride back at a more leisurely pace, enjoying the warm sun and the greenery peeking through the melting snow. He picks up his pace as the light fades and the path in the forest stretches on endlessly. By the time he has to light a lantern, he’s sure he’s lost. Luna had seemed to know the way before, but she whiskers at him pitifully now, flinching at the shadows and the howls of wolves in the distance.

They plod on ahead, Cisco starting to shiver in his cloak until he’s so cold that he dismounts to walk just to keep warm. The howling is getting closer and closer. Cisco grips the reins tight in his gloved hand, trying to hold the lantern out bravely in front of him. When growling emerges from the darkness behind them, Luna balks, the whites of her eyes showing. Cisco mounts, dropping the lantern in a snow bank in his haste. He ignores it, urging Luna into a gallop. They run for what seems like an eternity, Cisco looking over his shoulder, frantically seeking out the wolves in the shadows. Luna tires eventually, dropping to a trot and then a slow walk. Cisco slides off her back, patting her as he cools her down with snow.

“Lo siento, Luna,” he whispers into her side. “I don’t know what to do.”

They walk until the sunrise turns the horizon pink through the trees, and that’s when Cisco sees it. The castle is dark against the lighting sky, all of the windows black and empty. He frowns, picking up his pace until he can look through the gate up at the castle. Pushing the gate open, he leads Luna to the stables. The snow is nearly gone, brown grass and woody bushes revealed in the warming air. Cisco rubs Luna down in the stables and hooks a feed bag up in her stall. Gwenaël lips his arm as he passes by and Cisco pats him.

“I don’t have any sweets,” Cisco apologizes. “I’ll bring some tomorrow.”

There’s no answer when he knocks on the door, and it’s unlocked when he pushes against it. None of the candles or fires are lit as Cisco follows the now-familiar path up the stairs. He knocks on Caitlin’s door, calling tentatively when there’s no response.

“Caitlin?” Cisco tries the knob. “It’s me.”

The door opens. It’s dark, the fire down to embers and the candles burnt to stubs. Cisco can barely see Caitlin, draped on the chaise in a white nightgown, hair loose and tumbling over the edge. He rushes over, feeling for a pulse or a breath. Her heartbeat is faint against his fingers, her chest barely rising. Cisco pushes her hair off her face.

Caitlin’s eyes flutter. “Cisco?” She whispers.

“Yes,” Cisco says, pressing her hand to his lips. “Caitlin, I’m here.”

“I don’t have long,” Caitlin says faintly. “The curse is nearly at its end.”

Cisco shakes his head. “I don’t understand. Why are you dying?”

Caitlin gives him a trembling smile. “One thousand years of eternal winter. If all those years pass without breaking the curse, I-”

“Die,” Cisco finishes hoarsely. “Caitlin, you can’t die.”

She turns her head away. “I don’t have a choice, Cisco.”

“You can’t die before I tell you how I feel,” Cisco amends. “If you don’t feel the same, I understand, but, Caitlin, I love you.”

Time stands still while Cisco presses Caitlin’s hand to his heart and waits. She finally turns back to look at him, tears welling in her eyes. “Why?” She asks.

Cisco frowns, confused. “Why?”

“Why?”

Cisco clears his throat. “I love you because you’re intelligent and because you love books like I do. I love you because you’re kind and compassionate. I love you because you disagree with me and tell me why I’m wrong. Most of all, I love you for your strength.” Cisco brushes his fingers against her cheek. “No matter what terrible things happen, you never let them stop you.”

Caitlin smiles, tears slipping down her cheeks as she cradles Cisco’s face in her hand and draws him down to her. “I love you too, mon chéri.”

Cisco’s breath catches in his chest as Caitlin brushes her lips to his. Cisco gathers her in his arms, deepening the kiss until Caitlin draws away, going limp. Cisco holds her to his chest, crying into her shoulder until he realizes that the tears are freezing on his cheek.

Caitlin’s hair is pure white, whipping around her face in a sudden icy wind. Frost forms on her skin and her eyes snap open, piercing blue and unseeing. Cisco scrambles away as Caitlin about floats to her feet. The wind picks up, swirling freezing snow around Caitlin’s body, blowing out the candles and dousing the fire. The room remains lit in an eerie blue light.

She still looks like Caitlin, but gaunt and white as snow, with lips and fingertips stained blue as if from frostbite. She looks down at Cisco.

Cisco is crouched against the sofa, staring up at her in disbelief. “Vous êtes une dame blanche,” he whispers.

Caitlin-not-Caitlin shakes her head. “I am no fée,” she says, her voice Caitlin’s but also the whistling winter wind rattling through the forest and howling up the mountain. “I am a nymphe, daughter of Chione, goddess of snow. I am Catrine, as you may know me, soul of Mont Blanc.”

Cisco stands slowly. “You’re a mountain?”

She laughs and holds out her hand. “Let me show you.”

He doesn’t hesitate and as soon as their hands touch, Cisco’s vision is swamped with the fiery eruption of a mountain’s birth, then a beautiful woman, chilling the lava and placing a tiny baby in the center of the mountain. Years pass as the mountain grows, green and lush in the summer with serene snow capping the mountain in the winter. As the girl grows, her strength increases and she can summon devastating snow storms, and banish the chill in the summer. After thousands of years safe in her mountain, the girl fashions herself a body of ice and snow and ventures down the mountain into a village. The lord and lady of the castle, recognizing the girl for who she is, and having no children of their own, welcome the girl into their home, giving her their name to share. 

The girl, who the humans call Caitlin, learns the ways of humans, but humans fear her unusual appearance. Her human parents throw a lavish ball in honor of their adopted daughter, hoping to find a young man who wouldn’t be frightened by her looks. One young man, handsome, but pompous and proud, proposes marriage. Caitlin hears him mocking her to his friends and rejects the marriage. The man, furious that she did not even consider the offer, shows himself to be a great warlock and casts a curse on Caitlin. For one thousand years, she will appear as a beautiful woman, but will be kept away from her mountain. If she does not find a true love that looks beyond appearance before the last snow melts, she will die.

Cisco blinks and looks back at Caitlin in her true form. The wind has stilled, and even though she is made of ice and snow, her hand feels warm in his.

He smiles. “Caitlin, you’re beautiful.”

_…et ils vécurent heureux pour l’éternité._

**Author's Note:**

> The standard ending of a French fairy tale is "ils vécurent heureux et eurent beaucoup d’enfants" but I didn't like that so much, so I modified it.
> 
> Cisco mistakes Caitlin for "une dame blanche" which are female French spirits who trick passerbys into doing little tasks, like dancing, in order to pass. If the passerby doesn't comply, they were thrown into the thistles and briars.
> 
> Chione is the Greek goddess of snow. Mont Blanc is the tallest mountain in the Alps and is in the western part of France. I made up Catrine in order to fit in with the mythology.


End file.
